She was a cheerful, gracious, kind woman--a woman of God's making, one would say, were it not that, however mysterious it may look, we cannot deny that he made Mrs.Mitchell too.
It is very puzzling, I confess.

I remember once that my youngest brother Davie, a very little fellow then, for he could not speak plainly, came running in great distress to Kirsty, crying, "Fee, fee!" by which he meant to indicate that a flea was rendering his life miserable.

Kirsty at once undressed him and entered on the pursuit.
After a successful search, while she was putting on his garments again, little Davie, who had been looking very solemn and thoughtful for some time, said, not in a questioning, but in a concluding tone-- "God didn't make the fees, Kirsty!" "Oh yes, Davie! God made everything.

God did make the fleas," said Kirsty.
Davie was silent for a while.

Then he opened his mouth and spake like a discontented prophet of old: "Why doesn't he give them something else to eat, then ?" "You must ask himself that," said Kirsty, with a wisdom I have since learned to comprehend, though I remember it shocked me a little at the time.
All this set me thinking.